Populate Mandalorian Crusade for the Lantillian | Battle of Bimmisaari | Open to All

[Hakon Fett]

The Crusade for the Lesser Lantillian Route.—a campaign of fire and fury, spreading from Velmor to Taanab, and from Aquaris to Lantillies. The Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders, fueled by the spoils of their raids and the repurposing of their newly reclaimed homeworlds’ resources, have carved their path of conquest, tightening their grip on the Lantillian Trade Route. With each victory, their strength grows, their hunger deepens, their ambitions multiply.

But for their conquest to stand, for their war machine to press ever forward, they must deliver the final blow. A decisive strike. The worlds of the Lantillian Route, now united in their desperation, have formed the League of Lantillies, a fragile alliance forged in fear. Their scattered fleets, shattered and retreating, have regrouped above Bimmisaari—the last hope of resistance, the final bastion against the Neo-Crusaders’ onslaught. They gather in force, their leaders assuring themselves that their combined strength, concentrated in one place, will be enough to deter the tide.

But we are not deterred by numbers, nor by fear. The odds do not shake us, they only sharpen our resolve. They fuel the fire that burns within us. We revel in the challenge of stacked odds, we thrive in the crucible of battle.

Bimmisaari must fall. The League’s fleets and armies must be scattered like dust upon the wind, crushed beneath the iron fist of Mandalorian might.
The League of Lantillies believe they can stand against us. We will show them that they are but stepping stones on the path to victory.

Conquer Bimmisaari, crush the League, and let the galaxy bear witness to the triumph of the Neo-Crusaders.

OBJECTIVE 1: IT'S A TRAP!​

The Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders prepare their decisive assault on Bimmisaari with a daring strike force tasked with breaking through the League's formidable fleet defenses. With their warships outnumbered and outgunned, the success of this mission depends on superior tactics, valor, and exploiting weaknesses in the enemy's formation.

As the battle intensifies, the League spring a deadly trap – a reserve fleet from the dark side of Bimmisaari’s moon blaze to flank the Mandalorians’ advance. Not any fleet, either, but an Umbaran fleet, brimming with vengeance and armed with advanced and prototype technologies that may very well turn the tide of battle. Adapt or die!

OBJECTIVE 2: CONUNDRUM​

As the fleets clash in the skies above Bimmisaari, a task force of Mandalorian crusaders—small enough to penetrate the planetary shield—is sent via a daring high-orbit, low drop jump to destroy the planetary defense grid and open the skies for a full invasion force. Their mission: disable the planetary shields and anti-orbit weaponry that give the League the advantage in the ongoing space battle.

During the assault, the Mandalorians receive a communique from a faction within the League’s own ranks willing to sabotage their own defenses in exchange for the Mandalorians’ mercy. Will the Crusaders exploit this treachery or punish it and push forward with their mission to ensure the shields fall?

OBJECTIVE 3: BYOO​

The absolute classic.

--
Referred threads:

• Neo-Crusader Raid on Contruum
• Neo-Crusader Raid on Manaan
• Neo-Crusader Raid on Umbara

 

[Hakon Fett]

OBJECTIVE 1: IT'S A TRAP!
TAGS: Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders | Open
"Victory in battle is my justification."
―Canderous Ordo

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Fleet
Bridge of the Keldabe battleship Stormbringer
Bimmisaari High Orbit

"Hold formation. Let them come to us," Hakon ordered. The bridge was filled with flashing lights, warning klaxons, and the distant rumble of turbolaser fire.

None of it seemed to faze him. The League could've kept their line and blockade forever with the numbers they possessed, but their patience seems to have worn thin or they were fools.

"Hakon, the League's hammering our left flank. We'll lose the cruisers if they keep this up!" called out Ormbyr Rook.

"Good. They're overcommitting," Hakon replied. "Send the bombers in."

"Al'verde!" the sensor officer broke in. "New contacts—Umbaran fleet. Fast at our rear. Coming from the dark side of the moon. They're moving to encircle us."

Hakon's eyes flickered to the readouts. The League were neither impatient, nor fools. They had this all well planned out. "Let them. We'll deal with them when they're close. For now, concentrate on the League's forward line. Full combat readiness across the fleet."

He had to figure this out. And fast.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

OBJECTIVE 2: CONUNDRUM
TAGS: Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders | Open

The dropship rocked with the descent - one of a few. Flak burst in the air around them, the pilot maneuvering with the skill of a seasoned veteran. The tell-tale crimson armor of the Rally Master was at the head of the ship, holding fast to his harness that stopped him from being flung about like a ragdoll.

“Our mission is simple; clear the way for our kin locked in the skies above. This opportunity is not one that can be missed. Aruetyc aruetiise await us below. They will provide our moment. Do not act rashly - we strike for all Mando’ade.”

Mercy.

It was not a concept common for Mandalorians. Especially among crusaders. But it existed, however rare and costly it was. If the Neo-Crusaders wished to truly take hold, mindless slaughter had to be reigned in. It had to be focused, honed towards an enemy deserving of such fury. Everything else used as a tool to supplement that rage. The resistance here was not among their true enemy, merely serving as another obstacle.

The dissent in the Lantillian resistance's own ranks would be an excellent display. Capitulate, and be rewarded - resist, and be burnt away by the fires of war in a blaze of glory. Join their war machine, or be crushed in its machinations. He could commend the motley resistance for their valiant last stand, for t'was again proof that their adversity strengthened others. Alas, it would not make much of a difference. Working with the dissenters was much more than exploiting a weakness; it was proof of concept. Proof that their reach was greater than their enemies thought. They could show the galaxy that they are capable stewards, and save trouble in affairs much like this later. Whether their potential allies did so out of care for their own world or cowardice, was another question altogether.

You could not aspire to conquer a galaxy without that loathsome, nagging concept of politics. Military diplomacy, veiled threats, and venomous exchanges of words. If even Mandalore the Ultimate espoused such a concept, then it must be taken into account. Such were the thoughts of Carduul as he had entered into low orbit with a small squadron of others aboard the dropship. Cowards aren't usually willing to betray their own people without a price. But compared to the Mandalorian lives this would spare, it would be sufficient enough for the purposes of the crusade.

“Now! Oya!”

The doors below their feet opened, and he unlatched his safety harness. He plummeted like a ball of steel through water, before his jetpack flared to life and carried him upwards just before he impacted the ground.

From there, he aimed to take an outlying outpost. They’d establish contact there, and secure this victory swiftly.

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders - Battle of Biimmisaari
Tag(s): Zandra Ruus | Carduul Akahl
Objective 2: Conundrum

Sig stood on the bridge of the Dauntless with his eyes fixed on the space warfare occurring before him. The glory and fires of war burned brightly this day, but Sig preferred a more personal approach. When Hakon Fett contacted him with being a part of the minor planet-side force, disabling the defenses more directly, he couldn’t be more gleeful.

It would be no small feat, dropping from orbit is never a simple task. When fleets are engaged in active combat it can make the jump all the more problematic. Still where the rest of the galaxy would stop to question themselves, Sig was a Mandalorian. He knew his mission and he knew the odds. Glory or death, whichever came first. As his patrol craft neared the drop point, Sig turned and swiftly made his way to the lower deck where Zandra and a few others from Clan Dryggo awaited. They wouldn’t be the only ones dropping but Sig would be damned if they weren’t the first.

Approaching the back door of the ship, he turned to face Zandra and the rest of the small team, comprised of five total, including Zandra and Sig themselves. “Our objective is clear,” he stated bluntly over ship shaking, gravity starting to take hold, “We’re dropping into a small military complex in the wilderness of Bimmisaari. The base controls the planetary defense shield as well as the anti-orbital cannons that are stopping the fleet from landing.” Turning he faced the door, which opened with a loud hiss and the upper atmospheric air pressure pulling at everything within the cargo bay. “We land, we infiltrate, we execute anyone in our path. Glory or death.”

Without saying anything further, the Mandalorian warrior took a few steps forward before diving out the back. They were just within the atmosphere so the drop would take a few minutes. As he cut through the air like a bolt of plasma, he extended an arm to his helmet’s comm system, <“Landing zone is marked on your HUDs, just outside the facility.”>

After a few minutes of gracefully falling to the earth below Sig threw his legs forward and activated his jetpack. Landing with a loud thud, he quickly straightened and drew his pistols. Eyeing the landing zone it appeared clear for now: the drop was a success and the base hadn’t been alerted.

“We have the advantage for now,” Sig said as the rest of his clan landed shortly after. “Zandra,” he half-whispered to his young apprentice, “Take those two and move to the east side of the base, schematics show that’s where the shield controls are. Report when it’s done,” he said bluntly. Without another word he stood and took the last remaining man with him, intending on moving to the opposite side of the base where the defense cannon controls were.

Not far away, in the skis above, he saw Carduul and his own team making their way to the ground, though they chose to land at a nearby settlement. Sig smirked, he was ahead of schedule it seemed. <“We’re at the base, support will likely be needed momentarily.”> They were hidden for now, but Sig knew it was only a matter of time before they were discovered and the alarms were tripped. A moment he eagerly awaited.
​

 

[Zandra Ruus]

Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders - Battle of Biimmisaari

Objective 2: Conumdrum

It was quite the feeling, all of the energy in the dropship seemed to be focused right on her. As the craft sped down out of orbit, it felt like she was going to lose her rations all over the floor. Still, all of that was lesser than the feeling of anticipation for the coming battle. It was another step towards breaking free of her past, and writing her name in legend.

However, one nagging thought kept rearing its ugly head in the back of her mind, of Drego's warning. She had cast aside that warning, but yet it lingered, like a wound in her mind. The force of nature he warned about, the sage of the planet she'd burned. If her former mentor was right, any mission could be her last. All the more reason to put herself at the spearhead of this battle. For the Cursade, and for glory!

Her self isolating thoughts were cut short as Carduul Akahl began to address the rest of the force. She knew little of him, only that he was in a position to command. That earned him some respect automatically, but the fire with which he spoke was far more worthy of note. He spoke of the traitors within the enemy's own ranks. Cowards and kinslayers all, and deserving of only the edge of a blade.

Despite a personal want to kill the traitors, they were a useful resource, one that would help the greater crusade. For that reason, and only that reason, they would be spared... for now.

As the dropship opened, her body was allowed to drop straight down. For a moment she took in the sight of a planet she'd never seen before, one that would soon bear witness to a great battle!

As she made a not-so-graceful landing, She was met with Sig Dryggo and the rest of her Vode preparing for the mission ahead. His orders for her were simple, head east and disable the main shield array for this area. This would be a satisfactory start to this pivotal battle. "I'll have it done Sig, just make sure to not get too bored without me around!"

 

[Hakon Fett]

OBJECTIVE 1: IT'S A TRAP!
TAGS: Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders | Open
"Victory in battle is my justification."
―Canderous Ordo

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Fleet
Bomber Squadron Eight, Fighter Hangar of the Stormbringer
Bimmisaari High Orbit

"Jakor, you hear that?" Ven Kelborn’s voice crackled through the comms as the bombers prepped for launch.

“Yeah, I heard," Jakor Wren muttered, strapping in tight. "We’re up. Hakon’s sending us in.”

Ven hesitated. “Against those cruisers? You sure we’re not just—”

“Don’t question it. If Hakon says we hit, we hit. ”

Ven let out a breath. “No. But… doesn’t he know we’re outnumbered?”

“Outnumbered, outgunned—what’s new? You think he doesn’t have a plan?” Jakor barked. He glanced out at the flashing lights on the hangar deck. “He sees things. Knows things. If we’re going in, there’s a reason.”

The bombers launched into the chaos, engines roaring as the League cruisers filled the viewports.

“Targets dead ahead. Those ships are hammering the left flank,” Ven warned.

"Yeah, that’s why we’re here. Follow orders, Ven."

Ven’s silence hung in the void of space, the cruisers looming larger. “You ever met him? Hakon?”

Jakor kept his focus, locking onto the nearest cruiser. “No. Don’t need to. You don’t need to meet the storm to know it’s coming.”

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Location | Aboard Unyielding Resolve, Bimmisaari Orbit​

| Objective | Find a way to break through [Obj 1]​

​

The League of Lantillies had proven to be a resilient obstacle as the Neo Crusaders' rapid rise turned to bringing former and new Mandalorian territories to heel. While most worlds were quick to welcome the Crusaders, others required a more firm and direct approach. With the Neo Crusader fleet trying to break the defending fleet, the League had called upon previously raided systems for aid as allies, with an Umbaran fleet moving to make a bold flanking maneuver in an attempt to pincer them.​

​

Careena's ship was already in the thick of it engaging the Bimmisaari's fleet, holding the left flank of their fleet. Alarm klaxons blared as the destroyer Unyielding Resolve she was aboard rocked. One of the helmsmen turned to shout over their shoulder as their screen began to flash.​

​

<"Shields are down and we're losing power fast. We won't be able to maintain our position.">​

​

<"Alert Hakon Fett of our situation, scuttle the ship and launch our escape pods. Load our transports with all our non-combat ready staff and wounded, let them think we're abandoning ship.">​

​

<"We're abandoning ship?"> The helmsman turned to look to the woman, slightly confused.​

​

Careena held fast as the ship rocked as a missile splashed across their hull, rocking the vessel before straightening herself out and looking directly to the questioning helmsman. <"No brother. We are getting ourselves a new one. Prep all our warriors in the hangar and ready them for traversal through space.">​

​

<"Yes ma'am!"> The helmsman turned to put the appropriate orders to the rest of the ship.​

​

The Unyielding Resolve was ablaze as black smoke belched from breaches in the hull as numerous empty escape pods launched and transports laden with the wounded and ill-suited for battle disembarked from the hangar to make their way back to the bulk of the Neo Crusader fleet. The ship drifted towards the flank of the battlefield. The Bimmisaari fleet ceased fire upon the destroyer as they were led to believe that the vessel was now empty, moving to redirect their attention and fire towards other vessels firing at them, unmoving from their position as the calculated trajectory of the Unyielding Resolve was not on a collision course with them.​

 

[Nelliel Kryze]

MNV-52 'Beviin' Class Space Superiority Fighter
​

| Location | Space, Bimmisaari Orbit
| Objective | Escort Bombing Run [Obj 1]

Nelliel's Beviin rolled to the right as it narrowly avoided a hail of fire from a pursuing fighter on her tail. The thrill of being in a dogfight and the adrenaline that it filled her with made her excited as she glanced over her shoulder through the canopy of her cockpit to get a read on her attacker. The skirmish with the Bimmisaari fleet had all but reignited her passion for fighting with the return of the Neo Crusaders, and with them the promise of being able to stretch her wings out and fly again.​

​

The young Kryze pilot smiled from beneath her helmet as she yanked on her flight stick to dodge yet another burst of laser fire being directed at her. Her comms crackled as orders from the fleet were being dispatched - a bombing run being prepped to hit the enemy's larger ships. Nelliel acknowledged them as she spoke to herself as if speaking directly to the enemy pilot, <"Sorry to cut the playtime short, but I have more important things to attend to."> ​

​

She flipped a few switches as her wings unlocked from their forward positions, gritting her teeth as she braced herself, turning her wings in opposite directions as it abruptly spun her ship around 180 degrees, the fuselage turning to aim directly at the incoming fighter before her targeting systems lit up and she released a hail of fire directly into the incoming fighter's path, showering it with laser fighter before it promptly exploded. Her wings locked back into their acceleration position as she accelerated off towards the incoming friendly bomber's formation and opening up a channel to them, <"This is Switchblade. I've got you boys covered, just get those bombs out and let me handle the rest.">​

​

Hakon Fett ​

​

 

[Mr. Hate]

OBJECTIVE 1: IT'S A TRAP!
FOE: Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders | Careena Fett Hakon Fett Nelliel Kryze @

In the days leading up to the battle above Bimmisaari, the League of Lantillies, driven to the edge of annihilation, made a desperate choice. Faced with the inevitable advance of the Neo-Crusaders, the League's leadership turned to the underworld, seeking out a killer with a reputation that sent shivers through both ally and foe alike. His call sign was whispered in circles of fear and terrorism—"Mr. Hate." A man once rumored to be of Mandalorian heritage, Clad in gold Mandalorian armor, he was a twisted echo of the enemy they feared most, the mercenary's allegiance was to no creed, no honor, only to bloodshed and the satisfaction of his own hate-fueled vendetta.

"Mr. Hate" was an enigma. No one knew his face or his true name. His origins were unknown completely. Even down to the identity of his species; what little was known came from the few survivors of his contracts. His large physique, gold-plated armor, adorned with battle scars and cryptic symbols, was said to be the spoils of hundreds of hunts, a trophy of the many lives he had ended. Names of the loved ones he killed to spite his own kind. To the League, his Mandalorian heritage made him both a dangerous asset and a symbol of their desperation—a man hired to kill his own kind, despite the risk of betrayal. The leaders squabbled in secret, unsure if they could truly trust him. But they had no choice. They were out of options, and they needed the worst the galaxy had to offer.

In order to defeat the Mandalorians, they needed to think like one.

The bridge of the Lantillies flagship "Shadows dawn" hummed with the quiet tension of conflict. Officers moved briskly from station to station, relaying orders, while the vast starfield outside the viewing windows flickered with the violent light of distant battle. The centerpiece of the command deck was a holo-table, projecting the ongoing space combat in eerie blue light. Ships darted through the display, tiny representations of the colossal vessels exchanging fire in the void, as explosions flared and faded on the holo-image.

Standing at the table, one of the League's more prominent leaders, Commodore Frellan Graith, a tall Umbaran man draped in an immaculate, if fraying, military uniform, scrutinized the projections with a mixture of satisfaction and pride. His hawkish features twitched with restrained excitement, clearly pleased by the progress. The battle was going well. The ambush—unexpected, precise—had torn a gaping hole in the Neo-Crusader advance. The League's fleet, for the first time in weeks, was pushing back. And yet, standing next to him, in sharp contrast to the Commodore's self-satisfaction, was a figure that cast a shadow over the entire room—Mr. Hate.

The gold-plated Mandalorian mercenary stood silent and still, his armor glinting with a luster under the harsh bridge lights. His T-shaped visor gave nothing away, but his presence demanded attention. Commodore Graith, though visibly relieved by their progress, was unwilling to yield completely. He paced around the table, speaking with a politician's flair, his tone laced with both gratitude and thinly veiled reluctance.

"We've certainly turned the tide," Graith began, arms folded behind his back. "Your ambush plan—positioning our heavier cruisers just outside the asteroid field on the darkside of the moon and pulling their rear lines into a false sense of security—was... inspired, I'll grant you that. We've made significant gains. But there's something to be said for balance, for... restraint, wouldn't you agree?"

Mr. Hate remained motionless, the holo-table's light reflecting off his visor. He waited. Graith continued, emboldened by the silence.

"Now, don't misunderstand me—I'm not denying your... expertise," Graith said, stepping closer to the Mandalorian. "But our forces are fragile. They've already been through hell and back facing the Mandalorians, and I must ensure we don't overextend ourselves. You see, while your methods—brutal as they may be—are effective, a calculated withdrawal to fortify our gains might serve us better than—"

"You're not listening," Mr. Hate interrupted, his voice cold and metallic through his helmet's modulator. Graith flinched, the words slicing through his self-assured monologue like a blade. " This isn't a victory yet. They will recover." A single finger vaguely motioned to a disabled ship now drifting through the battle field. The Commodore's nostrils flared, visibly irked by the interruption but unwilling to provoke his unpredictable mercenary further. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain control of the conversation.

"Of course, we must consider the possibility of a counterattack," Graith replied, waving a hand dismissively over the table. "But this is my fleet, and the men under my command will not be thrown into a reckless pursuit just because you—"

Before Graith could finish, Mr. Hate's hand moved with terrifying speed. He seized the Commodore by the throat, lifting him off his feet in one smooth motion. The bridge officers froze, too terrified to intervene. Graith clawed at the mercenary's gauntlet, his eyes wide with shock as his words choked off into panicked gasps.

"You talk too much," Mr. Hate growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. His grip tightened, his armor creaking ominously as if to emphasize his dominance. "Do you really think you're in control here?"

Graith's face reddened as he struggled to breathe, his legs kicking uselessly in the air. The Commodore's eyes bulged with fear, and Mr. Hate tilted his helmet slightly, as though he were amused by the man's weakness.

"I'm not one of your soldiers, Graith," Mr. Hate continued, his tone cold, ancient, and utterly indifferent. "You don't command me. You don't temper me." He pulled Graith closer, his voice dropping into something more sinister. "I do what I want. And right now, I want to end this battle my way. If you try to hold me back, I'll tear through you and this fleet just like I will your pitful Neo-Crusader enemies."

Graith gagged, his body trembling as his air supply was cut off. Just as his vision began to darken, Mr. Hate released him, letting him fall to the ground in a heap. The Commodore gasped, coughing violently as he tried to regain his composure, his hands shaking as they gripped the edges of the holo-table for support.

Mr. Hate loomed over him, his imposing form casting a long shadow over the recovering man. His voice, though softer now, was no less menacing.

"You're scared. You should be. Without me, your fleet would be nothing more than scraps for salvagers. I've killed people more important than you without a second thought. " His helmet tilted slightly as if regarding the Commodore like an insect beneath his boot. "Your little fleet doesn't matter to me. The only thing that does is killing these fething mandalorian scum and getting paid. And if you stand in my way—" He paused, letting the threat hang in the air, his fingers flexing like a predator preparing to strike. "I'll rip your head off and carbon flush your corpse."

Graith, still breathless and pale, nodded, not daring to speak.

"Pleased to see your listening to me," Mr. Hate said, stepping back but never breaking his unnerving stare.
"They'll regroup soon. We will hit them before they can, they'll scatter. That's the plan. No more delays. We strike, now."

Graith, still reeling, gave a shaky nod. "Yes… yes, of course."

Without another word, Mr. Hate strode off, his armor clanking heavily with each step. The bridge crew parted in fear as he passed, watching the mercenary disappear through the doors. Graith slumped against the holo-table, his pride bruised and deflated.

 

[Trajan Fett]

II - CONUNDRUM
R E T R I B U T O R
CRUSADER
MANDALORIAN NEO-CRUSADERS
CRUSADE | Sig Dryggo | Carduul Akahl | Zandra Ruus
Beskar'gam | Carbine

BURNING HELL​

As much as Trajan felt at ease in the fervent fires of war, these sorts of operations were just as easy to slip into. Having mapped out the engagement area, his aim was the orbital defense cannon, him and a couple of other Crusaders taking a drop point half a klick back with a bundle of detonation charges between them with the aim of rendering it unusable. Assuming they couldn't overtake it themselves, commandeering it for their favor. That was the initial aim at least. Most people were more willing to comply under the duress of the possibility of being de-materialized by the explosive power carried between them.

He had little trust or care for these traitors. Smart as they were to bend the knee upon word of the Crusade's assault of their domain, just as eager as they might be to betray their current comrades- they may do the same to the Mandalorians once they came in power. Even so, they were motivated by fear. It was something to take advantage of for the time being.

He narrowed his eyes, focusing in on his HUD, seeing a series of strobes through the treeline in his thermal sights.

<"That's our man. Keep an eye on him, I'll move to speak to him."> He said, approaching with a quick yet silent step ahead before soon enough the Mandalorian appeared from the bush around them in front of the supposed traitor. He was caught off guard but bowed his head faintly.

"Mando! Shit...I wasn't expecting you so soon...and- and so quiet." He remarked, his voice in a hushed tone. Trajan nodded, motioning for the man to hand over something. His eyes widened with realization, fishing into a pouch on the webbing over his fatigues, producing a key card. Trajan inspected it, the markings belonging to the planetary defense force of Bimmisaari proper, not the League itself. Seems the latter hadn't fully integrated itself. He nodded, pocketing it.

<"You have any others with you? Were you followed?"> Fett inquired.

"No...no I- I went out alone." Stupid. Most any guard detail would move anywhere in pairs. Fett narrowed his eyes beneath the T-visor of his helmet.

<"You tell anyone where you were going?">

"No- no they never process any sign ins or outs...the sentries were told to be on high alert- but- but word here is there is no chance the Mandalorians would make it here no sooner than weeks from now." The man said, offering a faint laugh toward the end, shaking his head. Trajan nodded.

<"Complacence...it's a killer."> Trajan said, nodding to the man who put up a nervous laugh in response.

"So...when am I out of this place?" He asked, lofting a brow to Fett who seemed to nod in the distance to the approaching Mandalorian dropship. He turned, widening his eyes before Trajan's arm wrapped around his neck, the pressure of his helmet against the back of his skull in tandem with the pressure of his arm against his throat enough to knock him unconscious and eventually kill him.

He sent a holocomm message through the strike net.

<"I've got the keys- moving in now."> He said concisely. A few moments later and a dart from his vambrace punched through the back of one of the soldier's necks. A short trip along the ramparts to the first orbital defense cannon.

 

[Feydrik Munin]

OBJECTIVE 2: CONUNDRUM


THERE IS ONLY WAR


​

He looked up at the metal above him, the low-orbit ship flying below radar, through incoming flak and machine gun fire. He took a deep breath, rising with several other warriors. He took a moment, waiting for the door to open and the Dropmaster to give them the signal. A red light turned to green, and one by one, the Mandalorians head out of their dropship, into a low-orbit jump.

He took a deep breath, crossing his arms as he exited the rear of the aircraft, and felt himself be pulled violently along by the windspeed. He dropped down, falling further and further- before he reached terminal velocity, his helmet cutting out the noise and rush of wind. Even through his underlayer and armor, he could feel the wind- but not the bite of the cold of it.

He fell for a good while, the other Mandalorians spreading out in a circular pattern, checking in silently with acknowledgements from their helmets. Feydrik, having proven himself, was placed in charge of a squad- 11 Mandalorians, and himself. 12 warriors, to take on a critical task: taking on the orbital defense cannons, and securing the ramparts for future landings.

He looked up, as machine-gun fire streaked in the distance.

Comms were down, scrambled, or just jumbled with atmospheric interference.

He lit the flares, and his team followed.
​

More flares on the left.

More flares on the right.

Two sets of red flares. His platoon was good-
​

Only one set of green flares.

The other platoon lost a squad, or they weren't able to make the drop.

Feydrik took a deep breath, and let the flares burn out, before instructing his squad to dive down further, and begin their slowdown procedures. Each member was to start from left to right, activating their jetpack, before he would be last, ensuring that his squad was set and would land safely.

1. 2.

3. 4.

4. 5.

One by one, they activated their jetpacks, pulling slightly upwards with the thrust, crossing their arms and holding their rifles across their chests, as they went full thrust.

6. 7.

8. 9.

10. 11.

He nodded at them all, as they approached the ramparts through the clouds and with the designated HUD-marked landing site. He was the last to activate his jetpack, pulling himself upwards, but lower than the others-

He would be the first one on the ground, and the last to leave.

Feydrik's squad had arrived, safely, and unharmed.

"Zis is Shatual squad- we have aye-rived on target, all accounted for. Preparing to move now."

His basic was improving, at least. His accent was still there but- it was getting better.

 

[Hakon Fett]

OBJECTIVE 1: IT'S A TRAP!
TAGS: Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders | Nelliel Kryze | Open
"Victory in battle is my justification."
―Canderous Ordo

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Fleet
Bomber Squadron Eight, Bomber Wing One
Bimmisaari High Orbit

Jakor's bomber shook violently as flak exploded around them, the cruiser's defenses working overtime to keep them at bay. He glanced over at his targeting display, watching the cruisers grow larger.

<"This is Switchblade. I've got you boys covered, just get those bombs out and let me handle the rest."> his comms crackled.

"Copy, Switchblade," Jakor muttered, jerking the controls to weave through the fire. "Ven, how're things looking back there?"

"Shields are holding. Bombs are primed."

Jakor glanced at his HUD. The targeting display beeped rapidly as they closed in. "Bomb bays opening in three... two... Now!"

The bomber shuddered as the payload was released, sending their ordnance plummeting toward the cruisers below. Jakor watched as the red targeting dots disappeared, replaced by flashes of impact. The explosions lit up the dark void as they tore through the enemy ships.

"Direct hit!" Ven called. "We've got 'em."

"Thanks for the cover, Switchblade." Jakor straightened out, but just as he did, his radar lit up with new contacts—dozens of them. "We've got trouble."

The first wave of enemy fighters swarmed in fast, and Ven's heart sank as he saw corvettes closing in from the flank. "We're getting boxed in!"

"Hold it together, Ven."

But Jakor could see it—there was no easy way out.

They were surrounded.

"Switchblade, a little help over here!" Jakor called out as he banked the bomber into evasive maneuvers.

 

[Sig Dryggo]

"A respected leader will die by his soldier's sides. A feared leader dies by their hands." -Mandalorian proverb

The Crusade: Zandra Ruus | Carduul Akahl | @Trajen Fett

The base was moderately sized, housing possibly three or four platoons of League defenders. Traitors or cowards, in his eyes they’d die all the same. With his pistols firmly in his grip, he moved about the perimeter of the base’s outer wall like a gust of unstoppable wind. He only stopped as he and the one under his command reached the bases’s primary entrance.

Sig quickly scanned the area. In the main courtyard there were a few men scattered about. He turned to the man with him and nodded forward. He didn’t need to use his words, his kin would know what he desired. Without hesitation the Foundling warrior sprang forward from the bushes that concealed them and began blasting his rifle.

With the courtyard now in confusion and quickly drawing a response, Sig moved to the wall of the base. Activating his jar pack just enough, he boosted up to the top of the wall and quickly grabbed it, vaulting himself over to the catwalk. The Foundling was now just inside the base as well, the entire courtyard opening fire on his covered position behind one of the decommissioned vehicles present.

Sig stood and observed, counting the men. Twelve of them, all armed with rifles. The minimal armor they wore wouldn’t matter. They’d face the same fate either way. Closing his eyes for a brief moment he inhaled a long breath. The Crusade was officially underway, this was the first major strike against those who resisted their grip. To Sig it was time to forge his place in Mandalorian history. Opening his eyes he let the air out and tightened the grip around his pistols.

Running a few steps forward, Sig launched himself from the catwalk. As he came forward his pistols let off several shots; four times he pulled the trigger and four times his mark was hit. Going into a roll as he landed, Sig swung his arm forward, the pistol connecting with the head of a nearby soldier. He let out a yell that was quickly silenced over the sound of Sig’s pistol and the body hitting the ground.

Seven.

As he recovered from his latest attack, Sig was violently pushed forward. Quickly turning he saw one of the soldiers back on the catwalk operating a mounted gun. While the pain was there, the hate was stronger. Without a second thought he was back in the air and gliding forward toward the gunner. As he did so bolts of burning plasma shot by, Sig narrowly avoiding the incoming fire. Before the next volley of shots could be made, Sig’s hand was around the throat of the gunner. Almost immediately the two shot upwards, the gunner grasped for air and desperately clawing at Sig’s deathly grip. A moment later and Sig’s grip finally let him go; the gunner falling and smashing into the gun he once operated, which sent sparks and pieces of small metal in every direction.

Landing, Sig saw the remaining soldiers falling back into the base. Before the doors would seal three more would fall, either from Sig or his kin. As the courtyard fell silent once more, Sig wasted no time gathering together the gear, be it weapons or armor, of all the dead. When the battle was over M9 and him would recover it all, for now however it was placed in a neatly organized loot pile.

With his kin in tow the two approached the doors of the base. Zandra had her orders to reach the shield controls, Carduul would likely be joining either of them shorty. Not long into the looting Feydrik had also arrived with his own group of support. Sig didn’t care who did what or how they did it. He had his own plans for the planetary guns and he wouldn’t let anyone, Crusader or not, get in his way.​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

OBJECTIVE 2: CONUNDRUM
TAGS: Sig Dryggo | Zandra Ruus | Trajan Fett | Feydrik Munin

They had to circle around the central conflict to get a decent angle of attack. It would not be long before they found their target. An outpost, it seemed, with a complement of soldiers to defend it. The whole planet was at war, and so they were doubtlessly on alert for excursions just like Carduul’s. They would not, however, know of its purpose until it was far too late to act upon it. Supposedly, this was the point of contact. The rearguard here would not be enough to withstand their assault. The planetary shield would be their victory to claim.

<“Forward.”>

With his Preservists and some newly-joined Neo-Crusaders in tow, they flew in haphazard formation as they descended upon the place with a blaze of blaster fire and brimstone. The helmet-comms fizzled to life, as skirmishes began emerging betwixt strike teams. Among the Neo-Crusaders, they have seen more communication than ever before.

Heavy blaster firing off in his hand, the ever-present poleaxe in the other, he surged forwards with the tide of war. One of the bolt sent one clear off the side of a watchtower with a hit to the chest, another clean into the head of a heavy gunner. When they landed onto solid ground, danger close, the fervor of battle reached a high. Flamethrowers burnt the occupants of makeshift bunkers out, blows exchanged in his group’s favor. His own descent ended with a lance into another defender’s stomach, pinning them to the ground in an agonizing crunch as the rest of his body’s weight fell upon them with the landing.

He wrenched the bloodied poleaxe’s tip from their gut. <“Secure the flank. I want no warning to escape to our foe.”>

As comm chatter exchanged between the evolving battleground that was the planet’s surface, he affirmed the statuses of several fronts. It was good Clan Dryggo was opting for the more direct approach. Backups were always useful, should this prove to be an unwise endeavor. T'was true, he was behind for the moment - but that would not be the case forever. Other teams were finding progress on other key points; Trajan Fett , having met with another stray cell member. At the very least, it proved this wasn’t a trap. Feydrik Munin had landed with his own team, no doubt aiming to cripple their enemy further.

His troops soared above him as wrist-rockets loosed into dugouts, and Carduul joined the advance with a jettison of flame forth.

 

[Hakon Fett]

OBJECTIVE 1: IT'S A TRAP!
TAGS: Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders | Careena Fett | Nelliel Kryze | Mr. Hate | Open
"Victory in battle is my justification."
―Canderous Ordo

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Fleet
Bridge of the Keldabe battleship Stormbringer
Bimmisaari High Orbit

Hakon Fett watched coldly as the League cruisers—once proud, once defiant—flickered into oblivion wrought onto them by the Mandalorian bombers. Flames kissed their hulls for a brief, futile moment, only to be swallowed by the unforgiving vacuum of space. These vessels, once instruments of war, now floated as hollow remnants, silently drifting among the stars.

But the Mandalorians had no time to savor their small victory. It was fleeting, and with one threat diminished, another grew. The League surged forward, bolstered by superior numbers, their resolve hardened by the distant Umbaran fleet raining long-range fire on Hakon's rear. The ambush had come..

And yet, there was something about the League's sudden ferocity, their boldness. They had never stood so firm before, never fought with such unyielding courage. For too long, they had been craven, breaking and fleeing at the first sign of resistance. But today was different. They fought with teeth, with strength. Perhaps Hakon Fett had been led into a grand trap. Perhaps the League had been playing the long game, their newfound vigor a surprise only to him. Perhaps the Umabarans had taken the reins of the Leagues' command--every Crusader had recently learned of the Umbarans' ferocity in combat.

But there was no time to dwell on these questions now.

Doubt did not suit Hakon Fett. He pushed it aside. There was no room for questions, only answers. And the answer, as ever, lay in action, in the present.

"Has she lost her mind?" Ormbyr's voice cut through silence, his smirk audible even through the helmet as the reports on Careena's plan and situation poured in.

"No, but she's given me an idea." Hakon said, then ordered, "Kahak, triangulate where most of the League's transmissions are sent to."

"On it, Hakon!"

Several minutes later, Kahak broke the silence, "It's this one." the Mandalorian sent a ping on Hakon's tactical screen, "Shadow's Dawn."

Like a domino, Hakon's ideas had fallen into a plan.

"Send its coordinates to Careena Fett and open a direct line to her." he ordered to the comms pit.

"You're on, al'verde."

"<Alor, we've identified the League's flagship. Coordinates sent. I'm ordering interceptors for escort. You need to commandeer that ship and sow chaos in their ranks.>"

He then issued a command to several fighter squadrons to support their mission as escorts, one of which was Switchblade ( Nelliel Kryze ).

"Glorious death awaits them." Orm noted. They were sending these squadrons in the eye of the storm. Every Mandalorian knew sacrifices were necessary in war and every Mandalorian craved the honorable death in combat against insurmountable odds.

"<Ground Strike Force, this is Hakon Fett. Seize any ground-to-orbit emplacements and turn them on the League's fleet. Targeting data incoming.>" his transmission would reach any commander down on Bimmisaari ( Sig Dryggo Carduul Akahl Zandra Ruus Trajan Fett Feydrik Munin )

And surely enough, through the severe jamming, targeting data compiled by the Stormbringer on the League's right flank where the Mandalorian bombers had just laid waste to would be sent to the ground forces.

"Helms, full burn into their right flank! Comms, order the rest of the fleet to follow close. We need to punch our way out, focus our fire on a singular point."

The orders were then quickly relayed and the deck beneath his feet began to shudder as the massive thrusters of the battlecruiser surged with energy.

"Tell Gunnery and Engineering—this is their day," Hakon said, his voice steady, but heavy with the weight of the moment. The bridge responded with a unified thud of fist against armor.

"Our day."

"Oya!"

"Oya!" the whole bridge echoed in response and with a heavy thud pounding their chest.

From here on, it was all about skill, grit and determination. Plans, tactics, and the like could only do so much in their situation. Now it was time for the true test of mettle, of strength… of who was worthy enough to brave the way of the warrior.

The whole Mandalorian fleet began to move, abandoning their siege line and converging closer around the Stormbringer. Like one single fist of iron and fire, they would blitz towards the enemy's right flank aiming to punch through the forming noose.

 

[Nelliel Kryze]

MNV-52 'Beviin' Class Space Superiority Fighter
​

| Location | Space, Bimmisaari Orbit
| Objective | Escort Bombing Run [Obj 1]

Nelliel's Beviin weaved through the dark of space like a graceful needle, explosions and carnage following in her wake as she made short work of the mediocre fighters the League had thrown at her in an attempt to stop their space superiority. The bombers under her charge had made a successful run as she pulled back on her flight stick to peel away, already focused on the incoming fighters coming to try and clean them up. <"I'm already on it. Just punch through and stay focused on not getting shot down."> Her voice came through dead calm, a sign that she was focused purely on the next few minutes. The ones to the rear were the biggest priority since they'd have the easiest time chasing them all down.​

​

Nelliel's ship was now in the direct path of the incoming squadron as her targeting systems locked on to two of the fighters once they came into range, holding off on letting her torpedoes fly. She immediately followed this up with her cannons, bright bolts cutting through the black of night. The squadron immediately moved to break formation to avoid the incoming laser fire, banking left and right. Nelliel's craft spun as it avoided incoming laser fire, letting loose two proton torpedoes that spiraled with her craft, each swerving off in a dizzying salvo that immediately impacted two of the incoming fighters as they passed by her, having little time to react with how close she was when launching.​

​

Orders were coming in from Stormbringer, adjusting plans and redirecting their fighters to make a bold offensive. <"Copy Stormbringer. Let me get these bombers home free first and I'll be there ASAP."> Her comm clicked as she returned her attention to thinning out the fighters pursuing them. Space was her turf, and she'd be damned if she let some second-rate pilots make a fool of her.​

Hakon Fett​

​

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Location | Aboard Unyielding Resolve, Bimmisaari Orbit​

| Objective | Commandeer an enemy ship [Obj 1]​

​

The crew for the Unyielding Resolve was abuzz with activity as the plan to scuttle the ship to commandeer a new one was underway. Mandalorians scrambled to their assigned raiding parties, organizing themselves in the hangar as Careena remained on the bridge. Most of the bridge crew had already vacated to board shuttles bound for the Neo Crusader fleet while those that were combat ready had already assembled. The only other individual on the bridge apart from Careena was the captain of the ship himself, an elderly Skirata. <"Captain. Why haven't you boarded the shuttles?">​

​

<"With all due respect ma'am, this is my ship, and I intend to go down with it. And while I share your gusto and enthusiasm for taking a bold approach, the enemy's sensors will pick you and the others up the moment they leave the ship. Let me do the honor of distracting them with one last hurrah. This old girl has enough in her to make one last maneuver. I'll flood their sensors with enough debris to make it possible for you and the others to where you need to be safely.">​

​

Careena paused as it took her a moment to grasp what the Captain had planned. She bit her lip from beneath her helmet, but her posture and gaze remained stoic as she accepted the reality of what the Captain had intended to do. She walked over to the Skirata as she placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping firmly before she curled her fingers of her free hand into a fist and tapped her breastplate. <"You live up to your ship's name and honor it till its last moment. Glory to you Captain. We will carry your resolve with us always and remember your sacrifice.">​

​

The Captain returned the gesture, speaking in a firm ton, <"Victory to the Neo Crusades. Live with glory, die with honor, Oya! I will await the tales you bring to the afterlife."> He removed his hand from the woman's shoulder as she departed from the bridge, turning to the viewport with his hands behind his back. Careena's comm crackled to life as a message from Hakon was patched through to her. The plan was sound, the only uncertainty being in reaching the vessel, but she was confident that once they got aboard, there would be no stopping them.​

​

Careena soon arrived in the hangar, with the entirety of the ship's combat ready crew to back her. <"Crusaders! Our fleet is relying on us to break the enemy. Let us show them how Neo Crusaders truly fight. Prepare for battle!">, the Crusaders present raised their arms up in unison as they shouted their approval. She ensured her jetpack was secured as she checked the seal on her suit. Everything was green for space combat.​

​

The ship groaned as the last of its power was diverted to its engines, flaring off as the ship suddenly lurched to turn to the nearest Lantilles ship. Careena was the first to jump out of the hangar into the emptiness of space, followed by the rest of the Crusaders as the destroyer's hull crashed into the nearest cruiser, like a knife through butter. Jetpacks would flare to life as they darted off towards their intended target, the crashing destroyer exploding behind them as the cruiser it collided into detonated as well, scattering millions of pieces of debris across the flank to cause an absolute nightmare for sensors and with it, obscuring the approaching Mandalorian crusaders as they made their way to the Shadow's Dawn.​

​

Hakon Fett | Mr. Hate​

​

 

[Sig Dryggo]

"A respected leader will die by his soldier's sides. A feared leader dies by their hands." -Mandalorian proverb

The Crusade: Zandra Ruus | Carduul Akahl | Trajan Fett

Hakon’s voice rang in Sig’s ears as he and his Foundling moved swiftly through the hallways of the military base. While they would run into the pair or trio of League troopers, the pair made short work of them. Instead Sig’s mind rested on other matters.

Whether the order was given or not, he would turn the anti-planetary guns against the opposition’s fleet. This was never a second thought. Yet as the order was officially given and coordinates flashed into the corner of Sig’s HUD, a new thought had occurred. Hakon Fett was more than a man. He was more than a Mandalorian, even. To many he was the symbol their people needed, the exemplar of their goals and ideals. The one they should follow into the future.

Despite his actions on Manaan, despite the few whispers among some about the death that was wrought by his direct actions, the majority did support him. Sig himself wouldn’t lie, he supported him. After all it was he who made the call to the galaxy, it was he who let out the cry for vengeance. Perhaps it was ego or maybe he was truly convinced his own convictions were enough, regardless of the reason Sig began to see an opportunity forming.

As he and his Foundling reached the door to one of the four main gun batteries, Sig could sense his moment. Standing adjacent his Foundling, Sig returned from his inner sanctum to rejoin reality. Giving a nod, the two stood back and delivered powerful kicks into the steel door. Flying off its hinges, the two marched in with their blasters drawn and firing upon the few men that worked in the control room. They were unarmed. Sig didn’t care.

Walking over and examine the corpses, he glanced at the controls. “Take any credits or loot they might have,” he said, walking over and quickly punching in the various coordinates and targeting data. He selected as many ships as this particular battery could target, knowing that the others would likely do the same when they too reached one of the control rooms.

There was room for one more target. Sig took a breath before entering in the coordinates for the Stormbringer. “What are you doing?!” Sig turned casually to find his Foundling with their shotgun drawn and aimed at his chest.

“What’s right for our people,” he simply stated, unmoving and his eyes as unblinking as his t-visor.

The Foundling audibly swallows their fear, “This isn’t for our people or the Neo-Crusaders,” the accused in a shaky, unsure tone, “this is for you…”

Sig smirked, letting a small chuckle escape his lips. “He has vision, but not as clear as mine.”

“Everyone will-“

“This is war,” Sig said, bluntly cutting him off, “and his death would be seen as just another causality. Such is our way.”

He shook his head. “Hakon will know…”

Sig took a step forward, the Foundling shaking and taking a half step back. Pressing the barrel of the shotgun against his own chest, Sig let out a larger laugh. “He knows this game was inevitable,” he said as his laughter died down, “I’m just making the first move.”

Before the Foundling could respond, Sig launched an open hand at his throat. Stumbling back and gasping for the air that was suddenly stolen from him wouldn’t matter; a mere second after Sig had both hands wrapped around his head and brought it down to meet his up and coming knee.

The Foundling fell back with a painful wail. Sig wasted no time. Before his down opponent could move or even attempt to stand, Sig sat atop him and ripped his helmet from his head. “You are unworthy,” Sig said as he tossed it aside and beginning to strangle the Foundling. Struggling proved futile, Sig’s grip tightening the more he fought. After a moment the fighting was over and Sig stood victorious.

Eyeing the controls, the coordinates still set to target mostly the fleet and also the Stormbringer, he firmly lowered the activation latch. Outside he could hear the hum of the guns going off.

<“This is Dryggo, one gun battery is firing upon the League fleet: be advised controls were destroyed, firing targets unconfirmed. Watch yourself up there.”> He stood for a moment, thinking on his actions. He wasn’t worried about anyone knowing the truth, regardless if this new plan of his succeeded or not.

No, to most everyone looking in from the outside, this was war. People die in war. Even the greatest of warriors eventually fall. As for Hakon, Sig knew deep down that Hakon would likely see through the fires of war. The two were of equal ambition. Two unstoppable forces bound to inevitably impact one another.

Sig turned and made his way back into the hallway. Quickly he once more began down the halls: his next target being the battery that Trajan was closest too, keen on intercepting and assisting his vod.
​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

OBJECTIVE 2: CONUNDRUM


VIOLENCE IS THE ONLY EQUALIZER

​

He met several warriors, Jedi, Sith, who had such juvenile, intangible concepts of war and warfare. How a war was to be conducted, battles to be fought. They spoke in pedantic terms.

But tactics, is what made soldiers out of warriors, and there was a difference. A warrior was a state of mind, a concept of a person. A soldier was a profession. The difference between them was the lethality and understanding, and one was a mindset, and the other- was an expert. A soldier was determined, lethal, efficient. A warrior was ruthless, efficient, and had grit.

A Mandalorian was expected to be both.

Professional Soldiers did not complain, did not bemoan, they placed the mission first, and completed their tasks. But a Mandalorian had a purpose to their soldiering, to their wars. Soldiers of the Alliance, the Dark Empire, sought retirement, benefits, or defense. But they lacked purpose, they lacked vision, clarity of mind. Doubt purveyed the other soldiers of the galaxy, fear, anxiety.

But a Mandalorian had none, or barely little of that. Their cause was just, their cause was righteous. It was completely self-serving, self-reliant, justified, and with purpose. Purpose gave them strength, gave them focus. Without it, they were simply wayward raiders, but with their cause, they sought vindication, validation in battle.

And Feydrik sought perfection in the tactics. How to shoulder a rifle more efficiently. Bounding to an objective. Assaulting, the emplacement of gun teams, the combined arms attacks.

He pushed forward, one of the main gun batteries, scarcely defended, within reach, within sight. They were not prepared for a fight this close to them, and thought the Mandalorians unable to penetrate this deep into their defensive lines.

They were wrong.

Their arrogance and belief in their defenses was their undoing.

 

[Mr. Hate]

OBJECTIVE 1: IT'S A TRAP!
FOES: Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders | Careena Fett Hakon Fett Nelliel Kryze
Action taken: Use Shadows Dawn tractor beams to scramble debris together. Cause Chaos! ​

The command deck of the Shadow's Dawn was in disarray, alarms screaming as the debris field from the destroyed cruiser peppered their shields. Officers scrambled, trying to regain control over their malfunctioning systems as the Neo-Crusaders moved under cover of chaos. One of the senior officers, sweat beading down his temple, opened the comm to Mr. Hate.

"Sir, the flagship beside us has been speared and destroyed by an abandoned ship! We've sustained indirect damage to the shields, and the scanners are overloaded from the debris. Neo-Crusader forces are moving through—"

The voice that came back was a venomous snarl.

<"Are you kriffing kidding me? An abandoned ship? Flanking us? How in all the nine hells of Corellia did you let that osik happen? Do you have any idea what defensive protocol means, or are you just here to look pretty?">

The officer stammered. "Sir, it all happened so—"

<"Oh, spare me the excuses, you dumb schutta. What were your tractor beams doing, taking a nap? Or maybe you were too busy ogling the destruction to think, huh? You let a scrap heap coast right into our flank and didn't even think to slow it down. Brilliant work. Really, a testament to the fine Lantillies training program."> Mr. Hate's words dripped with mocking sarcasm.

The officer winced, sweat dripping down his face as the bridge crew listened in awkward silence.

"Sir, the tractor beams—"

<"The tractor beams should've been the first fierfek thing you activated! What did you think, that the ship was just going for a joyride into our defenses? And now we're getting peppered by debris because you and your kriffing idiots didn't think to stop it. You kakring maggots.">

The officer swallowed hard. "We—uh—thought it was abandoned—"

<"Shut it! Neo-Crusaders don't abandon osik unless they're planning to shove it down your throat later. And you just stood there with your pants around your ankles while it flanked us.">

Mr. Hate's voice dropped an octave, laced with barely restrained rage. <" Use the karking tractor beams you seem to have forgotten about. Start scrambling that debris. Make the debris crazier than Chaos itself. And then—listen closely—you fire. You fire until there's nothing left of them but ash and regret. Or do I need to come down there and hold your shebs through the process?">

The officer nodded frantically, though Mr. Hate couldn't see it, barely able to contain his anxiety. "Yes, sir. We'll get it done immediately."

<"Good. And next time, don't wait for me to wipe your osik for you. Or you'll be joining the debris field, understand?">

The comm clicked off abruptly, leaving the officer standing there, still reeling from the verbal assault. He turned to the crew, voice shaky but determined.

"You heard him. Tractor beams active. Start pulling the debris! NOW!."